


Tales from Ebott

by Tell_Me_Tales



Series: 'Tales Retold [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (de facto) Dadster, Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Brothers, Family, Fluff, Gaster Blaster Papyrus, Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, One Shot Collection, Pre-Accident W. D. Gaster, Sans Sees Dead People, Scientist Papyrus, Underswap Asgore Dreemurr, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Queen Toriel, Underswap Sans, Void Gaster, Wingdings as a Dialect, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding, non-chronological storytelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tell_Me_Tales/pseuds/Tell_Me_Tales
Summary: A collection of short stories, largely focussed on the skelebros and presented in no particular order, from a world halfway between Undertale and Underswap.Possible spoilers forJust a Hop, Skip, and a Jump Away.





	1. Asgore, King of Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> This author values and encourages:
> 
>   * Constructive critique
>   * Notification of typos, misspellings, grammatical mistakes, and other writing errors
>   * Feedback on storytelling strengths and weaknesses
>   * Theorizing on character motivations, past events, future story beats, etc.
>   * Reader-to-reader conversation in the comments
> 
> In the comments section, this author generally:
> 
>   * Replies to questions
>   * Attempts to avoid spoilers
>   * Is an imperfect human being, but such is life

Deep in Snowdin Forest, a short skeleton pounds twice on a large, imposing door that he hasn't a prayer of being able to open on his own power. "Knock, knock!" Sans calls through the heavy stone. He doesn't need to wait long for a response.

"Who's there?" a low, muffled voice answers from the other side.

Sans grins wider. "Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"No one knows. His handwriting is illegible!"

An amused snort can be heard faintly through the thick barrier. "That one was terrible. Are you even trying?"

Sans shrugs despite knowing that his conversational partner will be unable to see the gesture. "My brother thinks my jokes are very trying. Besides, you need bad jokes tibia 'ppreciative of the good ones."

A groan and a reluctant chuckle follow. "Those were not much better."

"You can always pa-tella me to stop if you want," Sans offers, "Just say the word and I'll quit trying to drive you out of your skull with my pun-ishing, yet humerus, wordplay."

"Goodness! How many was that just now? But, no, my friend, that is quite alright. You know I do not truly mind your jokes. I've long since grown used to such humor, thanks to --" There is a pause and then a confession that is spoken almost too softly to reach Sans' hearing beyond the stone barrier that separates them. "There are still days when I miss her dearly. Days when I wish I had made different choices."

The skeleton frowns and rocks on his heels for a moment in contemplation, but it only takes him a handful of seconds to come to a decision. "Hey, uh, Chief, I think this might be a face-to-face conversation kind of day," he says, "It sounds like you're getting bonely back there, by yourself."

"Perhaps you are right. Will you wait here a moment? I promise I shall return swiftly."

"Sure thing," he promises his companion, "I won't move a muscle."

True to his word, the wait isn't more than a few minutes and the sound of grinding stone announces the return of the Ruins' Caretaker.

"Heh, what a great host! You even goat me tea and pie!" Sans greets the large monster.

Asgore rolls his eyes but smiles. "That joke was old the first time you told it, my friend," he tells the skeleton, but his tone is warm and his expression is fond. He takes extreme care as he sets the tray holding their refreshments on top of the snow that perpetually blankets the forest floor. Shortly thereafter, Asgore is sitting on the ground across from Sans and pouring them each a cup of tea. The whole maneuver requires a level of grace that Sans is always astonished to see accomplished by Asgore's giant form.

"So, Chief, what has you all melancholy?" he asks as he reaches for the offered teacup. Tea isn't really his thing, but he isn't about to be so rude as to reject his host's hospitality. It's nice to have something warm to hold, anyway.

Asgore stares into his own cup pensively, watching the ripples bounce off the porcelain walls. Eventually, the goat monster takes a measured sip of his tea and says, "Yesterday, I found the seventh human to fall into the Underground."

Sans nearly spills his tea. "O-oh," he murmurs, "Oh. I... suppose that's a good thing?" His eyelights dart away to look at anything that is not Asgore. This topic never fails to prey on his anxieties. Still, Asgore has few monsters he can speak to -- living in the Ruins as he does -- and fewer yet that can talk back, let alone ones willing to hold long, serious conversations. And the big monster needs _someone_ he can talk to, even if what he needs to talk about makes Sans uneasy. <strike>For many reasons.</strike> "That means six souls are being held in suspension, ready to be used on the barrier. Only one more will be required to break it!" He does his best to muster up some supportive enthusiasm, but his stubbornly maintained positivity seems set on fleeing from his metaphorical grasping fingers. <strike>It's always hard to find optimism in the face of tragedy.</strike>

"Yes. Likely yet another child that I will be forced to slaughter in order to free us from this prison," Asgore mutters, bitterness laced through the words.

Sans' head snaps up. "It was a ch--" he nearly chokes on the word and has to try again, "a child?"

The goat monster is grim as he admits, "They have all been children. I suspect that somewhere along whatever path they are taking there is a place too small for an adult human to squeeze through."

"That's..." Sans struggles to control his emotions, unsure of what exactly he is feeling, "horrific."

"I take no pleasure in it. And yet, if I do not complete the task, I will doom us all to an existence of eternal captivity. ...Never again to know the sun or the wind, the rain or the stars." Sans frowns and plucks the teacup out of Asgore's shaking hands before the large monster has a chance to drop it. Asgore looks down at him with tear tracks dampening his fur. In a whisper, he says, "Worse still, I do not think I will be able to do what is required. Though it would be for the final time, I can feel my resolve crumbling. It is almost as if my very soul is splintering. And if I fail, it will have all been for nothing. I will have the deaths of six children on my hands _for nothing._"

Perhaps inappropriately, Sans finds himself relaxing. The situation is still terrible, but Asgore remains a tender-hearted monster and not a bloodthirsty beast driven mad by his elevated LoVe. And where there is regret, there can be hope for change and a better future.

Sans pushes himself to his feet. Despite the fact that Asgore stays seated on the ground, the crown of Sans' skull only just reaches the larger monster's muzzle. "It may be time to search for other answers, Your Majesty."

Asgore looks at him, broken and defeated. "I cannot imagine what other answers there are to find, my friend."

"Don't be so quick to give up hope. Sometimes miracles happen!" Sans shifts uncomfortably as he forces himself to consider the more realistic options in front of them. "And, even if the same difficult choices are really the only ones to choose from, I have to trust you'll make the correct choice in the end. I believe in you!"

Asgore gives a wet chuckle that soon dissolves into a sob. "Th-thank you, my friend. Now, i-if only I was able to share your faith in my abilit-ties..." He does not finish the thought as the tenuous control he has over his emotions fails.

Sans hurries to help his friend however he can, but in truth there is little he can do except wait.

The king's weeping echoes through the deserted forest.


	2. Doctor Papyrus and Mister Laserbrain

Sans stares down the duo of monsters in front of him with his most unimpressed face and allows his disapproval to hang heavy in the quiet. Alphys at least has the decency to look ashamed, even through all the layers she has on to ward off Snowdin's cold climate, wringing her hands nervously and fidgeting in place. The taller monster beside her, however, is sadly lacking in repentance for the idiocies of bad science the two doctors have obviously committed and meets his eyelights with lazy sockets and an unconcerned grin. It's a familiar expression Sans has seen on his brother's face countless times made unfamiliar by the fact that said lazy grin is currently stretched over a maw wide enough to swallow Sans whole.

(The short skeleton isn't sure what exactly Papyrus and Alphys were trying to do, but he thinks the results make it clear enough on their own that it was a bit too close to 'mad scientist' work for comfort. He really should visit the Hotland Lab more often and keep a socket on their experiments.)

Sans runs his eyelights over Papyrus' changed form one more time -- taking in the strange dog-dragon-esque shape only partially shrouded by the tattered remains of his usual clothes and lab coat -- before demanding, "Do you want to explain yourself, Papy, or should I just ground you until never?"

Papyrus scoffs, shuffles in place, and tips his chin toward Sans in an act of defiance that hasn't been seen since the younger skeleton's adolescent years. (Of course, Sans hasn't tried to throw his weight around as the older brother in just as long, either, so that's not very surprising.) The smaller monster forces himself to shake off the sense of unease that tries to creep up on him at the sight of a skull with too many similarities to a Gaster Blaster being focussed on him.

Alphys tries to offer her own explanation, "A-a-actually, S-Sans, he c-c-c-can't an--"

"You can't boss me around anymore, bro," Papy states, in Wingdings, which is a bit of a shock but probably shouldn't be, "I'm an adult now. Besides, we're pretty sure this is fixable."

Alphys tries again, "Y-you s-s-s-see, something with his v-v-vocal-magic is-sn't --"

"I can understand him just fine," Sans is the one to cut her off this time, "He's speaking in Wingdings. It's a skeleton dialect. We had an older brother who spoke it."

"O-o-oh!" Alphys flushes. "So-o-o-rry."

"It's..." Sans sighs and turns his gaze away from his brother to face the royal scientist still fidgeting on his doorstep. Despite the situation in front of him demanding his attention, Alphys deserves better than to be treated as an afterthought by her friends. He starts over, "Thank you for walking Papy home, Alphys, but the cold isn't good for you, and Papy and I need to talk. Why don't you head back to Hotland? We'll call you later, okay?"

"R-right! Of c-c-course! I-I-I should d-do that!"

Sans tries his best to smile in a reassuring manner as he says, "Good-bye, Alphy."

Papyrus leans down and gives her shoulder a friendly nudge with his nose and adds, "Bye, Doc."

"Oh! Um..." Alphys hesitantly pats the elongated snout her assistant has recently acquired, "B-bye, guys."

Papyrus snickers a burst of static as he pulls away, tail moving languidly back and forth in a slow wag.

Alphys retreats a few steps before throwing an awkward wave at them over her shoulder. Both brothers return the gesture, Papyrus' contribution turning out somewhat haphazard in his newly altered body, and then the lizard begins the trek back to her lab in earnest.

"Alright, Papyrus, get in here," Sans says, backing well away from the door to allow his brother room to enter their house, "You need to tell me the whole story and then we're going to have to figure out what to do about all this."

The larger skeleton manages to give off the general impression of a shrug without actually being able to currently perform one before carefully squeezing himself through the doorway.

"You worry too much, Sans. Alph an' me already ran the usual tests at the lab. My magic is stable, if elevated, and my form is solid. Soul isn't under any strain, either," Papyrus reports, voice still jumbled in the cacophony that is spoken Wingdings, "We're good for however long it takes me to learn to shift back. After that, it should only happen when I want to change forms."

"His analysis of his circumstances is correct, you know. He'll be fine," a new, equalling discordant voice joins the conversation, drawing Sans' attention. Wingdings sits in seeming comfort on the living room couch, leaning back into the cushions with one leg resting on the opposite knee. The illusion is only slightly marred by the fact that the couch doesn't sag or bend around the scattered being pretending to occupy a specific point in spacetime. The eldest skeleton brother tips his head in acknowledgment of the eyelights now focussed on him and greets, "Hello, Sans."

"I want to be mad at you for taking his side, but I'm too relieved for that," Sans says bluntly, shoulders sagging and spine loosening from their previous stiff posture. The short skeleton throws himself onto the couch across from the once-scientist. "Why didn't you send me to stop them?"

Papyrus is quick on the uptake, for all that he can't see or hear their eldest brother for himself. "Oh, is Wingdings here?" he asks as he follows Sans through the room, staring hopefully in the direction the other skeleton is facing, "Hey, Bro."

Papyrus is currently larger than their entire couch is long, so he settles down on the floor at the end of the piece of furniture. He rests his head in Sans' lap without much thought. Sans begins running an equally absentminded hand over his younger brother's skull.

Wings' expression twitches in amusement at the sight the two of them make but all he says is, "Hello, Papyrus."

"He says hi," Sans translates informally, never looking away from the eldest among them.

He isn't alone in that regard. Papyrus' eyelights have taken on an intensity rarely seen from the youngest skeleton brother as he tries to pick out the form of a family member he can no longer perceive for himself.

"As for why I didn't send you to interfere, the results may not be exactly as intended but they are hardly the sort of catastrophe I normally have you haring off to prevent," Wings explains, "I had planned on giving him a blaster once he was old enough, but the Accident happened first. Now, he has one -- if in a bit of an unorthodox manner."

"You two will be the end of me," Sans mutters under his breath as he lightly scratches phalanges over the new ridges in Papyrus' skull. The smallest skeleton blinks as he comes to a belated realization. "Papy!" he scolds, "You found Wings' old notes and you didn't ask me for help?"

The way both of his brothers glance away when he looks at them is answer enough. Sans fumes. He may not be as gifted at science as his brothers, but he isn't stupid and he'd helped with a lot of Wingdings' projects during the early years. If nothing else, he could have given Papy insight into what Wings was trying to accomplish with most of his projects and which of his research notes had been either abandoned or reworked later.

"The two of you are unbelievable!" Sans says with a deep frown on his face. Honestly, he doesn't even know which of them he should be more disappointed in. He forces himself to take and release a deep breath before refocusing his eyelights on his older brother. In a serious, no-nonsense tone, Sans asks, "Wingdings, how do we retrain Papyrus' magic and fix this?"

The scattered skeleton monster allows himself an embarrassed shrug. "You know what they say, Brother, 'practice makes perfect.' Right now, Papyrus is clumsy and inexperienced with this particular kind of magic, but he won't be forever. I do, however, have some recommendations on how best to assist his learning."

Papy drifts off to sleep not long after Wings begins speaking, only able to perceive a stretching silence and soothed by Sans' thoughtless skull-petting. Sans, meanwhile, pays careful attention to Wingdings entire list-turned-lecture. He may not have a perfect understanding of everything Wings tries to explain to him, but Sans is determined to help Papy. Helping his brother is Sans' most important job, after all, even if Papyrus' latest predicament is one he caused for himself.

(One day, Sans hopes he'll be able to help Wingdings, too.)


	3. Something Fishy

Papyrus whistles and claps appreciatively after watching Undyne annihilate her target via energy spear. He's supposed to be observing her workout in a super-serious, studious scientist manner -- not hooting and cheering like a fan in a stadium.

...But he can't help being impressed! Undyne is, in general, very impressive! And it's obvious she works hard to stay that way. Effort is something to be applauded, isn't it? Sans certainly seems to think so.

Papyrus turns his eyelights back to his clipboard and hurriedly adds to his earlier notations. "Heh heh, you make fighting and bullet patterns look cool, Undyne," he comments, "Almost makes me wish I was better at it myself."

The fish monster straightens and wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of one webbed hand. "I could show you a few tricks," she offers with a manic grin, "I bet you'd catch on pretty quick, even if you like to pretend you're just some nerdy science dweeb!"

Papyrus' face shifts subtly as he grins. "Nyeh heh heh heh! Thanks, but I'll pass. That sounds too much like actual work and I'm a real 'lazybones.' Just ask my brother."

"_Tch!_" Undyne scoffs, "He obviously hasn't seen you at the lab, then."

"Uh... Thanks?" the skeleton says, "I think?"

Undyne flips her ponytail behind her shoulder and stalks over to the other monster. As soon as the fish monster is within arm's reach, she jabs a finger forcefully into the scientist's sternum. (If he winces, she doesn't seem to notice.) "You have _passion,_ Papyrus!" she declares loudly, "People with passion aren't lazy! They can't be! It's that fire in your soul that pushes you to achieve your goal, no matter what! It's a fire that can burn through anything! Even the impossible!

"_Ngah!_" Undyne takes a step back to flex as she speaks, "Watching you and Alphys work in the lab gets me pumped! Whenever you make a breakthrough on one of your projects you both light up and get super focussed! And on top of that, you're helping everyone in the Underground with the work you do! It's so inspiring it makes me want to work even harder to help everyone out, too!"

"O-oh! Mon, Undyne, that's super flattering," Papyrus says, rubbing the back of his skull. The only thing he can feel 'burning' at the moment is his face. He's fairly certain it's completely orange right now. "I'm not sure I deserve all that, though. I'm, uh, not so driven outside of the lab. And it's not like my bro's wrong. Compared to Sans, I'm a regular layabout, even counting my work hours.

"...'Course, I guess most monsters are when compared to my bro." The skeleton chuckles. "Sans has a wellspring of energy that refuses to be contained."

"_Ugh..._ Don't get me started on Sans," Undyne warns, dragging both hands down her face.

Papyrus' mood sours instantly. "You have a problem with my bro?" he asks, trying to keep a tight grip on his temper even though he can already feel it slipping through his phalanges.

"Yes!" Undyne bursts, either uncaring or blind to Papyrus' distinct disapproval of anyone that would dare _not_ like his brother. "I mean, Sans is... you know, _Sans,_ but he drives me nuts! Nothing about him makes any _sense!_"

Papyrus' frown takes on a different tilt at her words, his anger momentarily set aside for confusion. "How do you mean?"

"He's the worst sentry in the entire guard!" Undyne declares, throwing her arms wide in a sweeping gesture meant to encompass the whole of the Underground. "A sentry has one job: mon your post," the fish monster continues to make large, expressive gestures as she speaks, "And Sans is _never at his post!_ He's always off somewhere, chatting with random monsters, running weird errands, playing with groups of kids, helping the elderly...

"Don't get me wrong, Paps, all of those things are great things to do and I don't want your brother to stop doing them, but they're _not_ his _job_ and when he's on the clock, what I need him to be doing is tending his sentry post _like he was hired to do!_ Normally, I'd just fire him and hire someone else to fill the post instead, but... Queen Toriel won't let me?" Undyne rants, "Every time I try to bring it up, the queen just shoots me down! Normally, she's reasonable, but when it comes to Sans she won't listen to a word I have to say! I don't know exactly what's going on, but there's something fishy happening and it's interfering with _my_ job!"

Papyrus bites back on the easy joke. (Diving headfirst into pun warfare is only the proper response against Sans.) "I wasn't aware he knew the queen," the tall skeleton says instead.

"_Everyone_ knows the queen. She makes it a point to meet as many monsters in the Underground as she can," Undyne dismisses, "You talk to her all the time when she visits the lab!"

"Well, yeah," Papyrus admits, rubbing the back of his skull sheepishly, "but that's as 'Assistant Royal Scientist Papyrus' for work stuff, not when I'm just 'Papyrus the Skeleton'."

"Eh, I'm not sure there's much difference, from what I've seen." The fish monster shrugs. "Either way, Sans and Queen Toriel seemed real chummy," (Does Undyne mean to pun sneakily like Sans does, or has his brother ruined him for normal conversation with regular monsters?) "having tea together in the throne room the last time I had to go to New Home to report to her majesty. And he was supposed to be monning his station in Snowdin! On the other side of the Underground! _Uraugh!_"

Considering that Papyrus knows his brother could easily skip from one end of the Underground to the other and back again in moments, hearing that his brother took a lunch break in New Home isn't very surprising. The detail about his meeting with the queen is, but not so much the location. Still, if Sans hasn't mentioned his skipping ability to Undyne, it isn't a secret Papyrus is eager to blab. (And on the topic of Sans and his many secrets, Papyrus is going to have to see if he can't figure out which camp of secrets this lunch with Queen Toriel fell into. Some secrets Sans guarded closely for his own reasons, some he kept for others' sakes, and some he simply didn't think to speak about.)

"And another thing!" Undyne continues, "His personality is _all wrong_ for him to be working in the guard!"

"What's that --"

"He's too _nice!_" Undyne talks right over him. Papyrus doubts the fish monster even realizes he'd started speaking. "Everyone gets a smile! Everyone gets an 'I believe in you!' He's just so optimistic and bubbly and he trusts everyone!

"That's all well and good so long as he's only dealing with other monsters, but the number one thing a sentry is supposed to watch for are _humans!_ You can't trust a human! _Ngah!_

"Mark my words, if Sans ever meets a human, he's going to try to make friends with it and that's going to end in his dust!"

Papyrus would be upset by Undyne's words except that Undyne herself already seems upset enough for ten monsters. "You're wrong," he says, "I know it's easy to forget, but skeletons have long lifespans. Sans lived through the Human-Monster War and, unlike me, he still remembers it. He knows better than most monsters alive today what humans are capable of."

He doesn't mention that Sans had lived those years as a human, himself, and had only become a skeleton monster _after_ the barrier had sealed them all inside the mountain. He doesn't mention that he'd once been human, too, although he was so young when he'd been raised that he no longer remembers what it had been like to have a body made of more than magic and bones. There is a reason that skeletons are rare in the Underground, that there hasn't been a new one since monster and human societies were separated at the end of the war. But it's a truth that Sans insists is best left forgotten, at least for the time being, and Papyrus can only agree with the assessment.

He _could_ correct Undyne in her apparent belief that Sans' constant smile means that his brother is always happy. He could tell her that while the small skeleton is capable of frowning and scowling that such expressions are a learned communication tool and that the 'smile' she and most of the Underground see is simply Sans' resting face, a living example of a 'skeletal grin' and a not uncommon condition for a skeleton -- according to Wingdings, at least. (Sans' real smile is a wider, brighter grin that pushes up the bottom edge of his sockets and brightens his eyelights. Papyrus cherishes those smiles because, even though Sans _is_ cheerful more often than not, he knows most monsters don't understand enough to realize or appreciate the difference and someone should.) But he's never heard Sans dispel that particular misconception and Papyrus isn't inclined to reveal this secret on his brother's behalf, either.

"Wait... Are you telling me that Sans is _older_ than you?" Undyne demands.

"That," Papyrus says, a feeling of exasperation rising, "wasn't really my point." He is decidedly _not_ going to get into how age could be a tricky thing with skeletons. Humans matured so much faster than skeletons did, after all, but that goes back to secrets he has no desire to share.

"But he's so, so..." She gestures helplessly, waving her arms at a downward angle in front of herself with her palms facing up.

The scientist sighs. This is a conversation he is too used to having. "'Childish'?" he offers, "'Naive'? 'Youthful'? 'Excitable'?" In a low mutter, he admits, "I agree with the last one, actually..."

"Yes!" Undyne exclaims.

"Sans is small, hyperactive, and has big eyes. Well, eye sockets, technically," Papyrus says, "A lot of people don't take him seriously as an adult when they first meet him, and some don't even believe he is an adult, lack of stripes or no. He is _very_ aware of how others view him and, frankly, it's generally easier for him to play into those expectations than it is to fight them. So he does."

"Why, that manipulative --"

"Eh, not really," Papyrus corrects, "He plays a few things up but, for the most part, Sans doesn't pretend to be anything he's not. He just lets others realize that he's capable, responsible, and _not a child_ in their own time. He's patient like that. And, well, he's learned that starting an argument over his level of maturity never ends in his favor." The skeleton chuckles.

Undyne grunts, still obviously displeased with everything to do with Sans. The fish monster grumbles, "At least I don't have to worry about being responsible for getting your _younger_ brother dusted."

"No, just my _little_ brother," Papyrus says while rolling his eyelights, "Seriously, though, 'Dyne, you're not the one that would be on the hook if anything happened to my bro." (Nyeh heh heh! Sans isn't the only one that can stealth pun!)

"Wait... Was that a pun?" Undyne stares him down.

"Uh..." Papyrus feels magic begin to bead on his skull in a nervous sweat, "No?"

"Sweet Angel!" Undyne says, "Your puns _and_ your lies are both as bad as your brother's!"

"Hey!"

"Do you have any idea how many fish puns that little punk spouts off whenever I have to talk to him?" she asks, "'Fishing' for compliments, fighting my way 'upstream,' he's just a 'small fry,' are the new recruits still 'wet' behind the ears, things are going 'swimmingly,' I look 'fin'-tastic today, my opponents give me a 'walleye'd stare, this s'mackeral's of something 'fishy.' I almost smacked _him_ for that last one...

"I promise you, Papyrus, there isn't a fish pun you can 'cast' my way that I haven't already heard Sans say a million times."

The tall skeleton hums. He thinks Undyne might actually be unaware of her own punning if she's _this_ agitated over Sans' puns. Which Sans probably finds hilarious; Papyrus certainly does, and it makes it very hard not to pun back.

"Can I try for the _halibut_?" he asks. He doubts Sans has used that one. His brother is so insistent on keeping his speech clean that he won't even pun toward swearing, relatively mild as 'hell' may be for cussing material.

Undyne stares at him and then grumbles, "Okay, maybe you can, but _don't._"

"Nyeh heh heh heh! I can make no promises! But I'll try to avoid fish-based wordplay around you if that helps."

"That's something, I guess."

"_What'er_ you want, Captain," Papyrus says, unable to keep a flat tone or straight face like he knows Sans would, "but you should hear the ones Sans and I use when we really get going. They're _leagues_ worse. You can't _fathom_ the _depths_ we'll _plumb_ to outdo each other!"

"Papyrus!" the fish monster warns in a growl.

"What? None of those were fish-specific. More like fish-adjacent!" he says.

"Papyrus," the Captain of the Royal Guard says again, summoning a pair of spears, "run."

"Come on, Undyne," Papyrus says even as he double-checks that he has a good grip on his notes and that nothing is likely to fly out of his pockets during a sprint to the lab, "I _sea_ your _point,_ and I might have gotten a _head_ of myself but you're giving me the _shaft,_ here. Won't you _spear_ me?"

Undyne suddenly smiles, all sharp, pointy teeth. "With pleasure!"

"Wait, that was poorly phrased! Can we _wave_ that last one?" he asks as he dodges Undyne's first lunge.

"Not a chance! Start running!"

"_Well_ now," the skeleton says, dodging a second thrust. He uses the motion to twist around and proceeds to follow the fish monster's recommendation to flee. "I guess I really made a _splash_ with my jokes!"

"_Ngah!_" Undyne screams as she gives chase.

By the time Papyrus reaches the Hotland Lab, he is a giggling, panting mess.


	4. Tea in the Queen's Garden

Sans takes a sip of his tea as he listens to Queen Toriel recount her week. He's not any more fond of her teas than Asgore's, but it would be rude to refuse it. Unlike her estranged husband, however, she's picked up on the fact that he isn't particularly fond of the drink, and they have tea together often enough that she's taken to trying different blends in the hope of finding one he'll actually _like._ This one is fruity, sweet, and a bit tangy. (It's not terrible, but he thinks Papy would enjoy it much more than he does, and his brother isn't any more of a tea drinker than he is.) Sans wonders idly if the Queen will ever decide to fill the teapot with hot chocolate and the sugar bowl with marshmallows. That would be hilarious _and_ delicious! Or maybe Muffet's Spider Cider. He has a preference for that, as well. But telling would give the game away, and Sans doesn't really mind all the tea, even if none of Toriel's various teas are among his favorite drinks.

Sadly, fun and games are not the reason for his weekly tea with Queen Toriel.

Sans set his teacup back on its saucer and Toriel sighs. "Yes, I suppose it is time we attend to business," the boss monster says, "I apologize for my rambling, Sans."

"It's not a problem, Your Majesty!" the skeleton is quick to assure. Ironically enough, even surrounded by monsters eager to assist the queen, Toriel is in need of a trustworthy confidant every bit as much as Asgore is, isolated in the Ruins. It's a good thing that, for a skeleton, Sans is very good at lending an ear. "Everyone could use someone willing to listen to them every now and again." He's said as much many times before and he doesn't doubt he'll continue to do so for years to come.

Toriel laughs. It would sound happy to most. Sans can hear the stress and self-recrimination lurking behind the cheery facade. "Thank you for understanding, my friend," the queen says, "but I am ready for your report now."

And so Sans recounts his own week for Queen Toriel, if in a drier, less personal manner. He reports on any disputes or needs he's discovered when talking to the Underground's population that he hadn't been able to fix on the spot by himself, from his home province of Snowdin, through Waterfall, and as far as Hotland. He generally leaves New Home to the queen's other _informants_ and Home is (unofficially) under Asgore's care (and sealed off to the rest of the Underground at any rate). On occasion, he also gives his thoughts on how a certain situation may be resolved.

This particular week isn't anything out of the ordinary (There are some minor concerns in Hotland related to new machinery but most monsters approve of the changes, a few disputes in Waterfall have been settled since last week, and hardly anything ever changes in Snowdin.) except for the last thing Sans has to report. He _always_ leaves any developments with Asgore and the Ruins of Home for the end of his report.

"Asgore has collected a sixth human soul," he says. He's had three days to mull over the best way to deliver the news and there simply isn't a good way to do so, not to Toriel.

"What?" the queen asks, startled and angry, "Why did you not come and report this sooner?"

Sans is careful to remain calm and impassive. "There was no urgency to the matter. It has been done and it cannot be undone. Asgore is in possession of six out of the seven human souls required to break the barrier."

"How dare he?" Toriel growls lowly, "He declares a second war against the humans when we have only just buried our own human child, flees as a coward in the night, and leaves _me_ to settle the kingdom he abandoned in a tumult of anger, grief, and confusion. And if that was not enough, he sealed himself in the Ruins and began to indiscriminately murder humans for their souls. He's no better than a bloodthirsty beast! If I could get past the Sealing Door, I'd dust him for the sake of the good monster he once was! I have no doubts that at least some of those humans were innocents and that fact did not stop Asgore from slaying them for something he had _no right_ to take. He is despicable!"

Sans says nothing as Toriel rants. He considers Asgore a friend, and his king still, but Queen Toriel is the one he left to rule in his stead. And if it ever comes down to an official divorce, Sans is the Judge of the Underground. He can't afford to take sides in this dispute. For the sake of all parties involved, he must at least _attempt_ to remain impartial. It's difficult, though, when he knows both Asgore and Toriel as well as he does.

"Well?" Toriel demands suddenly, "Say something!"

Sans blinks at her. "Your Majesty?"

"You sit there silent and offer no indication on your thoughts regarding Asgore's actions. Surely you find this all objectionable! Abominable!"

The skeleton frowns, downs the rest of his tea in one gulp, and sighs. "Queen Toriel, it would be improper to--"

"Do not!" the boss monster warns, "You are judge, Sans. And I am ordering you to ren--"

"Stop."

And Toriel does, caught in the twinned yellow glow of the judge's gaze. Sans very carefully keeps to her outermost thoughts. Judging the queen's every fault and failing is _not_ his goal for today.

"You are correct. I _am_ the judge. I _know_ our laws, but perhaps _you_ have forgotten.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty, it would be improper to condemn the king's actions outside of an official judgement. And he _is_ still King Asgore. You rule in his absence, Queen Toriel, but only because he placed you on the throne to oversee the kingdom while he is away. It is through _his_ right that _you_ rule.

"_If_ an official judgement were to be rendered against King Asgore, one strong enough to remove him from the throne, it would likewise remove you. As things stand, the Underground and its citizens need you, Your Majesty. None of the current options to replace you are half so well suited to the role as you are."

After a few seconds, the queen finds her voice again. "I see."

Sans sighs softly in relief and releases the ancient magic of the judge, his eyelights shifting smoothly from yellow back to his typical cyan.

He _really_ doesn't want to have to place Papy on the throne. The other skeleton is the best candidate (currently, at least) but Sans doesn't want to think about what the stress has the potential to do to his brother. (Undyne would probably be the best choice after Papyrus. She already has leadership experience, but trying to train her out of that impulsive aggression would be a nightmare.)

"Then, as my friend and confidant, as _counsel_ rather than _judge,_ can you tell me your opinion on the barrier? Would it not be better to use _one_ human soul to cross the barrier and seek out the other six souls needed, rather than to wait for humans to fall into the Underground?"

Sans doesn't bother hiding his groan. Toriel can be relentless when she sets her mind to it.

"Forgive me, Sans," the queen says, "but I must know your thoughts on this matter. You are correct, however, in that we needn't bring Asgore into it."

Sans gives her a wry grin. He doesn't believe for a second that she has any intention of leaving Asgore out of this conversation. She'll merely be more mindful of dancing around his inclusion.

"I believe the fact that any souls at all are needed to break the barrier is a tragedy," he tells her, "I also believe that leaving the mountain to more proactively collect human souls comes with its own problems. The largest being the likelihood of sparking another monster-human war. That is, more or less, how the last war was started, after all."

Toriel frowns down at him. "Humans live short lives, and many die every day. There would be no need to kill a single human. We would merely need to collect the souls after the humans had died."

Sans shakes his head. If things were that simple, Asriel would have survived his excursion beyond the barrier. The young prince hadn't even been trying to collect souls, only been seen with a human corpse, and it had sparked enough fear in the humans for them to attack. (Not that Sans blames them. Seeing a human standing over a pile of monster dust would more likely than not cause the same reaction from most monsters.) He isn't quite cruel enough to bring that up to the late prince's mother, however, and there are other flaws in her plan that should be addressed first.

"Humans have superstitions about souls after death. Many different superstitions and religions, actually." He hadn't known that before they were sealed in the mountain, but all kinds of interesting reading material fell into the Dump. "If a human witnessed a monster interfere with a soul, even after the other human's death, it would lead to a panicked response. Probably a violent one."

"Why do I feel as if you are determined to prove that my idea is unfeasible?" the queen asks in a tone that is just shy of turning sour.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," Sans returns pleasantly. Toriel is too clever for her own good sometimes and has little practice in losing an argument gracefully. "I only mean to draw attention to the difficulties your plan presents. If our only goal is to bring down the barrier, then your plan could certainly work. If you also wish to maintain good relations with the humans once we are free, then that adds considerably to the requirements of the task.

"The barrier is a problem that we have no easy or simple solution for, and there is probably no _good_ solution for it either. As I said, I believe the situation is a tragedy."

The queen sighs and gives him a rueful smile. "When did you become so wise, my friend?" Toriel questions, "I still remember when you were a young boy."

Sans grins back at her. "Skeletons live a long time, Your Majesty," he says, "but boss monsters have the potential to live for far longer. In short, I've grown up." The small monster shrugs. "In a manner of speaking."

A pause, and then...

Queen Toriel roars with laughter. "Sans, that is terrible!" she says in unfettered mirth.

"Come now, Tori. We've discussed enough gloomy things. Let me tickle your funny bone for a while!"

"Oh, that's a joke older than I am!" she objects, but it isn't long before the two of them are trading bad puns and laughing like children.


	5. Knocked Loopy

Awareness comes gradually. Papyrus has no idea when it began but the _deja vu_ grows until it can no longer be ignored.

"Hey, Sans... You noticed anything weird going on lately?" he finally asks over breakfast one morning.

Sans pauses, a forkful of butter-soaked blueberry pancakes halfway to his mouth. "I don't think so? Weird _how,_ Papy?"

"I just..." Papyrus pushes the cut-up pieces of his own pancakes around his plate, leaving smears of honey on the ceramic surface. "It seems like nothing really _new_ ever happens? Like I know what's gonna happen on any given day before it happens. And it doesn't feel like I'm making progress on anything. Like I'm spinning my wheels and going nowhere. Do you ever feel like that?"

"Oh," Sans says, "Yeah, sometimes."

Papyrus blinks and looks across the table at Sans. He hadn't really been expecting the other skeleton to agree. His brother always manages to keep a chipper attitude. Surely Sans isn't suffering from the same hopeless pull of monotony that Papyrus can feel tugging on his soul?

"You should try shaking up your routine a bit. That always makes me feel loads better!" the smaller skeleton continues, "You could read a book from the library? Maybe explore somewhere in the Underground you don't know as well as Snowdin? Oh, I know! You could start a new project at the lab! Something small and easy to complete, just for fun. I'm sure Alphys would enjoy it, too!"

Papyrus sighs in disappointment. His brother is talking about normal stagnation in a routine, not some creeping sense of _wrongness_ that refuses to be pinned down and identified. "That's not really what I..." he stops as his mind fully considers the last suggestion. "Sans, you're brilliant!" he praises. "Not the lab, though. I just thought of something I wanna try on Dings' machine."

"Oh, okay, just... Be careful with it, Papy," his brother cautions, "The Accident isn't something I'm eager to have repeated with another brother. And if we're ever going to get Wings back, you can't alter it too much or you'll never figure it out."

"I know, I know," he assures the shorter monster, "I don't know everything I need to know to fix it, not _yet,_ but I think I can figure out how to fix _one_ of the basic functions."

"Really?" Sans eyelights change into stars, "That's great!"

"_Nyeh heh heh._ Calm down, Bro. I haven't got anything on it working yet."

* * *

After nine days of spending all his free time toiling away on Wingdings' machine, he's managed to get the chrono-analyzer on it functioning. He waits impatiently for the old, decrepit printer to finish before snatching up the sheet of data. His hands begin to shake as he reads, and then it gets to a point where they're shaking too much to continue reading at all. It turns out his paranoid fears haven't so much as scratched the surface.

He hasn't been experiencing _deja vu. Deja vu_ is merely a trick of the mind caused by repetitive tasks or misremembering, but time is actually folding back on itself, continually being reset to the same point _ad nauseam._ Some loops are longer than others, but none go on for more than a few years before getting dragged back to what appears to be some kind of fixed starting point. A starting point that is apparently set at... Ten days ago? The current loop has only just started, then.

How many loops have been created already? There are dozens on the printout he's holding, but he has no way of knowing if all the loops are included in the report or if the chrono-analyzer had hit the limit of its abilities.

Papyrus frowns. He doubts he'll be able to boost the chrono-analyzer's capabilities. His next step will have to be in identifying whatever anomaly is causing the loops. Once he's identified the anomaly, he can start working on a solution to the probl--

* * *

Sans trips over his own feet and Papyrus only just manages to catch him by the back of his shirt. This, of course, means that the groceries they both were carrying end up scattered in the snow around them. A few monsters send them concerned looks but Papyrus waves them off. They're fine. It was just a small stumble on the way home from the store. Though... He's not sure what caused it.

"You okay there, Sansy?" he asks.

His older brother shrugs and gets to work on recollecting his spilled bag. He spares Papyrus a quick grin over his shoulder. "I'm fine, Brother! I was just a little out-of-step with the rest of the world for a second! That's all."

Papyrus snickers and follows suit, reclaiming misplaced food items and dropping them back into the paper grocery bag. "'Out-of-step,' Bro?"

Sans' eyelights shine brightly as he stands up again, the spoils of their shopping spree once more carefully balanced in his arms. "We should be able to make the rest of the trip home without incident. It's no feet too great for us, Papy!"

"Oh stars!" Papyrus chortles, "That's awful! You're really _toeing_ the line, Bro!"

Cyan stars burst into existence and Sans' grin grows. "Don't be a heel! Show some grace and take my jokes in stride!"

The taller skeleton groans but grins back. "Terrible! Just terrible! _Shoe,_ away with your puns or I'll give you the _boot,_ you little _sneaker._"

The smaller monster falls into helpless giggles. "You win! You win!" Sans surrenders around his laughter, unable to stop long enough to deliver a proper rebuttal.

Papyrus snickers as he leads his brother into the house. "Really _socked_ it to ya this time, didn't I?" He's quite pleased with himself. It isn't often he out-puns Sans.

Sans shoves his bag of groceries into the corner of the couch and then collapses face-first on the cushions, giving in fully to his laughter. "Papy, stop!" he begs, "I can't breathe!"

"Might have an easier time if you rolled over, Bro," he says, lightly patting the back of Sans' skull before grabbing the abandoned shopping bag and heading into the kitchen. Putting the groceries away is usually Sans' job, but Papyrus knows his way around well enough to figure it out while his brother winds down.

The skeleton frowns as he gets to the last few items and realizes that there's no flour or blueberries to be found in either bag. And he's also not entirely certain why he was expecting to find those two items when he doesn't remember Sans pulling them off the store's shelves to begin with. A quick check of their cupboards confirms that they are, not just low, but _out_ of flour. And blueberries aren't something they usually have at all. As much as Sans loves them, the little fruits are rare in the Underground.

But something continues to nag at the edges of his mind. Something about... tomorrow's breakfast? Maybe?

"Sans?" he calls, if only to silence the annoying niggle in his thoughts, "What are you planning to make for breakfast tomorrow?"

Sans answers eagerly, bounding into the kitchen so they can have their conversation face-to-face. "Blueberry pancakes!" he declares with a wide grin. It's a joint favorite of theirs, feeding (heh) into Sans preferences for both berries and butter, as well as Papyrus' general sugar addiction and love for honey in particular.

"But... We're out of flour. And we don't have blueberries."

Sans shrugs, seemingly unconcerned that they are missing two key ingredients for his planned meal. "I'll get them from the store in the morning."

"How do you know they'll have blueberries? Did Dings tell you?" That doesn't really sound like the kind of thing their eldest brother normally bothers with, but it's the only explanation he can think of.

"Oh, no," Sans tells him, "Not Wingdings, and I suppose I don't _know_ but I'd be pretty surprised if they didn't."

That's... a strange answer. Why is Sans so sure the shop will have an uncommon item for sale tomorrow morning? Especially if their spacetime-scattered sibling isn't the source of the information? And why does tomorrow's breakfast feel so important, anyway? Sure, breakfast tacos can't hold a candle to the promise of blueberry pancakes, but the meal doesn't have any special significance. Does it? He's getting a headache. There's something teasing at the edges of his mind that he can't quite reach. Something isn't right.

"Papy? Are you okay?" Sans asks with a frown.

"I..." Papyrus trails off. Hadn't they had pancakes just a little over a week ago? Eight -- No! Nine days ago?

"Papy?"

Nine days... Why does that timeframe seem so important? Why --

"The machine!" he gasps. If he could, he'd skip straight into the room, but he can't; instead, he makes a mad dash out of the house and around to the door leading to the basement. He fumbles with the doorknob for a second before realizing it's not the trembling in his hands that is preventing him from opening the door.

There's a slight magic disruption behind him as Sans skips into existence just behind his left shoulder. His older brother gently pushes him aside and slots the key into place. "Papyrus," he intones even as he works on unlocking the door with hands that shake only slightly, "_what_ is _wrong?_"

"I, I..." He doesn't know what to say. It's clear enough that his panicking is about to set Sans off in a fit of sympathetic worry. He shouldn't do that to his brother, but...

Then the door is finally open and Papyrus wastes no time nimbly sidling around the smaller skeleton and running down the stairs three at a time. He makes a beeline for Wingdings' spacetime machine but halts abruptly halfway across the room.

There is a very innocent seeming piece of paper lying on the floor in front of the machine although Papyrus is certain the room has been mostly empty for years and the floor kept clear of any unnecessary debris.

He walks forward on unsteady legs, distantly aware that Sans is hovering in his wake like a worried mother hen, and picks it up. A brief glance reveals the discarded page to be a printout from the machine's chrono-analyzer. He'd gotten it fixed just... today? Hours ago? He can't... He can't quite remember _when_ the memory should fall, but it's _there_ and he _remembers_ it.

Angel, he _remembers._ Not much, but if he pushes at his memories he can remember little snatches from here and there, from several different loops if he had to guess.

But what is he supposed to do now? What, even, is the _point_ of doing _anything_ if it is all just going to get erased without any warning?

It's too much.

The old printer attached to the spacetime machine grinds and clicks as it struggles to function and the noise successfully pulls Papyrus from his spiralling thoughts enough to refocus on the world around him. Sans is standing next to the machine, face lit up in ecstatic wonder, his eyelights shaped like stars.

"You got part of Wings' machine working again!" he exclaims, "Papy! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I, that is --" words fail him as he comes to another horrible realization.

He _can't_ talk to Sans about this.

Sans doesn't know about the time loops and, if talking to him somehow succeeds in making his brother aware of the problem, it might have an adverse effect on his HP. Sans is the most optimistic monster Papyrus knows, but his Max HP is stubbornly stuck at a mere _five._ He can't risk Sans' well-being like that.

Eventually, he manages to croak, "Yeah, Bro. Got the chrono-analyzer working. Sorry I didn't let you know sooner." The grin on his face feels brittle. The way Sans' expression slowly falls lets him know that it looks it, too.

"Papy? Seriously, what's wrong?" the short skeleton asks, "Isn't this a good thing?"

He isn't able to come up with an answer.

In the end, Sans herds him back upstairs to the house proper and onto their couch before proceeding to bury him under what seems like every blanket in the house. He turns the television on to a marathon of Metta-Cousins music videos and then joins him under the blanket mound. Papyrus immediately hauls the smaller monster into his lap so he can 'listen' to his older brother's soul song. The soft pulse of Sans' magical core is as calming as it is familiar. It's tinged with worry for him, but it remains persistently hopeful and sneakily patient.

Sans takes advantage of his position as Papyrus' _de facto_ teddy bear to pick small pieces of debris from between the taller skeleton's carpal bones. Soft hums and tisks soon join the song as equally familiar (if more literal) sounds. They fall at odd beats to the rest of the otherwise steady melody as Sans gently teases lint, torn scraps of candy wrappers, and other miscellaneous bits free. Papyrus relaxes into the ritual. It isn't long before he finds himself being lulled into a half-doze and his thoughts begin to drift in meandering trails, rather than spinning in tight spirals.

It's a peaceful moment, like many before it. It will, in time, probably either blur together in his memory with all those other moments or else be forgotten entirely. If the data is correct and the pattern holds, this moment will likely be erased from existence, so as to have never happened in the first place. In light of that, this peaceful moment should have no meaning, no value, no weight, and no purpose. But...

It _does._ Perhaps not in the long term, but it matters _now._ At the very least, it matters as he's living through it. And considering that he can vaguely recall memories that he's fairly certain _haven't happened_ in this timeline but he thinks might have happened in _other_ timelines, maybe every timeline is still important, even if it gets overwritten by new ones. He hopes so. Otherwise, all he has to live for is the current moment, whatever moment it happens to be, and he doesn't want to live that way. It sounds awful.

It also sounds awful to live caught in a time loop forever.

He frowns and hugs Sans tighter. For once, the shorter skeleton obligingly slumps backward and allows himself to be pulled closer. Papyrus rests his forehead on his brother's crown.

That really only leaves him with one option. He needs to find a way to track down whatever is causing the anomaly and see about fixing it. Not exactly an easy task, but how hard can it actually be? He's apparently (going to be) responsible for pulling Wingdings back from the Void, a different dimension running closely parallel to their own (perhaps even overlapping it) that confers access to all of their reality's spacetime at the cost of being wiped from history and unable to interact with any of it. Compared to that <strike>and all the pressure that comes with it</strike>, this should be a cakewalk.

Right?

He should be capable of figuring it out.

Shouldn't he be?

He should start by keeping notes in the basement. Something about the room seems to rebuff the alterations to the timeline. All indicators (Sans' and his inability to skip into or out of it, the working chrono-analyzer he fixed even though he can't recall _when_ he managed to do so, the readout he never printed but still found on the basement floor, etc.) point to it being his best bet if he wants to preserve anything, specifically important information, across timelines. His own memory will probably be insufficient. He's regained a few hazy memories, but he has no idea if he has done so in past timelines or if he will do so in any future timelines.

That could prove to be a problem. It could quite possibly be too big a problem for him to overcome.

But he has to try, doesn't he? What other option does he have?

Eventually, Papyrus falls asleep midthought. He later wakes, still bundled up in too many blankets on the couch, with the morning light shining in his face. The smell of blueberry pancakes hangs heavy in the air.


	6. Nothing but Time on our Hands

Awareness comes instantly. One moment, Sans is running through Waterfall on an errand for Gerson, and in the next moment, his feet aren't where he thought they were and he falls face-first into the snow.

"Woah, there, Bro!" Papy says from behind him. (Isn't he supposed to be assisting Alphys at the lab right now? Sans was sure it was one of his workdays.) "You okay?"

"I'm okay," Sans says, pushing himself up to his knees and taking a quick look around. This is the middle of Snowdin. Had he somehow skipped by accident? "I just needed to powder my nose."

Papyrus snorts. "Sans, you're a skeleton. You don't have a nose." As an afterthought, he adds, "And I don't think that phrase is usually meant literally, anyway."

"Icey, icey," the short monster says with a nod as he brushes himself off. He watches as his younger brother bites back laughter and instead gives a melodramatic groan. "You're absolutely right, Papy." Before he can make another pun, he notices a figure standing just off to the side. The monster in question makes a shushing motion and Sans swallows back down the greeting that had been less than a second from bursting past his teeth.

"I'll explain in just a moment, Sans, but it would be better to have this conversation in private," Wingdings says in a calm tone, despite his ominous words, "There has been a large shift in reality as you know it. The details beyond that can wait, and you should know that what I have to tell you would only distress Papyrus needlessly, at this juncture. I promise it won't be a secret you need to keep from him indefinitely, but he isn't ready for the knowledge just yet. For now, act normally and help Papyrus bring the groceries home." And then he is gone as suddenly as he appeared. Likely, Sans will next find his older brother 'waiting' for him in his bedroom. (He hates when Wings does this, but there's usually at least a good reason for the mysterious act.)

"Hey! Bro!" Papy says, waving a hand in front of Sans' face and the small monster's eyelights immediately cut up to look at the taller skeleton. Papyrus frowns. "Are you sure you're alright? You spaced out on me, for a second there."

"Fine, just fine!" Sans is quick to assure him, "Wings just showed up, said something strange, and then ditched again. I'm not sure what he meant, yet."

True to the eldest skeleton's parting words, Papyrus is holding a paper grocery bag in his arms. Casting his eyelights about his immediate surroundings reveals another, half-empty bag and several food items scattered on the ground around him. Had he been carrying all that when he'd gotten a faceful of snow? Something makes him think the answer is 'yes' even though shopping in Snowdin is far from his most recent memory. (And isn't that troubling?) At least the snow cushioned the fall for the dropped foodstuffs and kept everything nicely chilled.

Sans gets to work on placing everything back in the bag. He might get a _little_ liberal with his use of gravity magic to help speed the process along. (The sooner he gets home, the sooner Wings can tell him what, exactly, is going on.)

"Oh," Papyrus huffs, always a bit put out that he isn't likewise able to see or hear their eldest brother, "Anything I can help with?"

"I wish," Sans tells him honestly. He isn't overly fond of keeping secrets, and in particular of keeping them from kin, but for better or worse he is good at it. (It's largely about word choice and the right amount of misdirection, he's found. Outright _lies_ often aren't even necessary. Sometimes, but not usually.) "It sounded like one of those, 'it will make sense at the proper time,' warnings he gives me every now and again."

"Bummer."

"Yeah."

"Let me know if something changes and I can help after all?"

"Of course, Papy!" Alright, that might end up being a lie, but Sans holds on to the hope that it won't be. Wings did promise he'd be able to tell their younger brother eventually.

* * *

The moment Sans closes his bedroom door, Wingdings Gaster materializes himself from the ether and says, "Hello, Sans."

"Hi, Wings," the short skeleton returns, mindful of his volume, "What happened? What kind of 'shift in reality?' And why all the secrecy?"

His older brother gestures toward the bed, the only obvious place to sit in the room. (Well, it's the only obvious place to sit besides the floor, anyway.) It would seem that this conversation is going to be something of a doozy. Sans skips from the doorway to the space just over his bed. He bounces slightly as he lands on the mattress but is soon settled comfortably, seated on the edge of his bed.

"There is a peculiar creature that was recently introduced into the Underground," Wingdings tells him, "That creature has just discovered it has the ability to bend time back on itself, to 'reset' time, as it will come to refer to its ability."

"Wait. Time travel?" Sans asks in astonishment.

"After a fashion," the elder brother says, "It's not entirely dissimilar to your own and Papyrus' skipping ability."

"Spacetime. Right. I guess that makes sense." The skeleton falls silent as he mulls over the information he has been given. "And this 'creature,' they're sentient?"

"Sapient, certainly," Wingdings corrects, "Judgement on its sentience is something I believe would be best left to you, in your own time."

Sans sighs but nods. They've had this conversation before. Wingdings could tell him everything about anything he'd ever have to know. He could direct him in the best way to handle every situation. But if he did that, it would be too easy for Sans to become little more than his puppet and the younger skeleton would never grow as a person. It would be a well-intentioned cruelty. Opportunities to fail or succeed on his own are _important,_ even if failing isn't a pleasant experience.

"The creature isn't either monster or human, then."

"No."

"But you're not going to tell me what it is."

"Only that it is unique, that you will recognize it shortly upon meeting it, and that should I reveal more it could bias your judgement."

"'Could?'"

Wingdings smiles ruefully. "I watch, Sans, and I listen, but I cannot read minds."

"I know that," Sans says, just a tad petulantly. His older brother always seems to draw out his most childish tendencies.

"And you do not state aloud _every_ thought that crosses your mind," the Void-being says, "It is hardly a slight to acknowledge that you exercise discretion, Brother."

"Oh. Thank you," the short monster mumbles. Wings stays tactfully silent, but Sans can practically hear his amusement anyway. The skeleton pretends to clear his throat before speaking again, "So, I got a faceful of snow, but Papy and the rest of town didn't seem to notice that anything strange had happened beyond that. Am I the only one -- beside you and the creature, of course -- that's aware of these reset-things?"

"For the moment. The creature's ability to reset time is imperfect. Remnants of previous timelines will, on occasion, be brought into the next timeline. Semi-recountable memories of other timelines and strong feelings of _deja vu_ will be the most common side effects of the resets. And the faults will grow more noticeable with each iteration. Other than yourself, only Papyrus seems to ever gain a full awareness of the resets, though it will be several cycles before he shows any signs of retaining his memories through the resets.

"I will warn you now, Sans, our brother finds the facts of the situation distressing. _When_ it is sensible to discuss this with him is something that I am choosing to leave to your better judgement. My meddling is of little benefit in this scenario, I'm afraid. Regardless of what path is chosen, Papyrus will not take the news well."

Sans groans and flops back onto his mattress. "Great." He runs a hand over his face and then asks, "Sure you don't want to meddle?"

"Quite." A soft chuckle brings Sans out of his self-pity long enough to glance at his brother. Wingdings' eyelights are tinged ever-so-slightly purple in his mirth. "This will be an excellent test of your _meddle._"

Sans huffs and collapses on his bed again. Traitorous giggles escape him. "This isn't the time for puns!" he tries to object. He's a bit (or a lot) lacking in his conviction.

"Of course," Wings says. Sans doesn't trust it for a second. "I hope you won't be too _reset_-ful of my poor timing."

Sans gives up and allows himself to laugh.

Wings decides to join him on the bed, flickering into view just to Sans' left with his legs neatly crossed in front of him and his head resting in one hand. He returns Sans' large grin with a fond smile.

"So," Sans says after he calms down enough to talk, "what comes next?"

"Whatever you want. Live your life, Sans," Wings answers, "Though, you may wish to focus on your mental growth rather than more physical achievements."

"Right. That's going to be pretty much all I can take with me through the resets, isn't it?"

The ex-royal scientist smiles. "Precisely." His expression takes on a more serious cast. "Don't forget, Sans, the present moment always has value. Don't give up on people or projects for no other reason than the resets. They will eventually come to an end, in one manner or another, but you could easily lose pieces of yourself if you allow a fear of setbacks or lost progress to take _root._"

Sans frowns as he turns the thought over in his mind. 'Time management' is going to take on a whole new, more complicated meaning, isn't it?

"Hey, Wings?"

"Yes, Sans?"

"Why doesn't Papy remember like I do? You said he will eventually -- so I guess this is another side-effect of the Accident, since it's apparently just the two of us -- but he doesn't yet. Why is that?"

"I'm sure you can figure out the cause without me telling you."

Sans stares at the ceiling as he thinks. There is one obvious cause for the discrepancy. "Is it our soul bond?" he asks. It's the reason he can perceive Wingdings at all since the Accident.

"A bleed-over effect of it, yes."

"I don't think I'm going to tell Papy that unless he specifically asks about it," Sans admits. There are a few, not insignificant, boons to being the raised of Wingdings Gaster. Dealing with Papyrus' jealousy is not one of them.

Wings hums. "That may be for the best."

**Author's Note:**

> This author values and encourages:
> 
>   * Constructive critique
>   * Notification of typos, misspellings, grammatical mistakes, and other writing errors
>   * Feedback on storytelling strengths and weaknesses
>   * Theorizing on character motivations, past events, future story beats, etc.
>   * Reader-to-reader conversation in the comments
> 
> In the comments section, this author generally:
> 
>   * Replies to questions
>   * Attempts to avoid spoilers
>   * Is an imperfect human being, but such is life


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